


Metamorphoses

by malumgranatum



Series: Chronicles of the Middle Sea [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Historical, Ottoman Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malumgranatum/pseuds/malumgranatum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the meeting with a lousy little Italian, Sadiq starts to ponder about his relationship with Herakles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphoses

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: starshards  
> Crossposted in Livejournal (as morwen2), FanFiction.net (as redtulip) & EFP (as malumgranatum). Modified in few parts.
> 
> Both the title and quotes come from Ovid's "Metamorphoses".  
> Why "Metamorphoses"? Well, I tried to show how Turkey's attitude towards Greece slowly changed. I'm not talking about love, at least not the romantic kind.

_What are you rushing for, Arethusa?' Alpheus called from the waves. 'Why are you rushing?' He called again to me, in a strident voice_.

Ovid,  _Metamorphoses_ , V, vv. 600-1

 

Mediterranean Sea, XVIth century a.D.

"Look at what we have here…"

Sadiq couldn't believe his eyes when, that morning, he spotted a lone Italian wandering in the countryside with no Spaniard or soldiers to guard him. Abducting that brat had been relatively easy, what was more difficult was trying to make him silent, because the little monster started shouting and cursing, leading the Turk to order Romano to be gagged in order to spare his poor ears from that terrible noise. At the zenith of his power, the great  _Ottoman Empire_ was the true Lord of the Mediterranean Sea- a menace for all Europe. Everyone feared him, feared his pirates who kidnapped, sacked, forcing people to live in terror, and to be taken away and made slaves. The little Italian was going to pay for his carelessness.

Greece was lying over some cushions positioned under an elegant gazebo in the main garden, clearly enjoying the summer sun, heat mitigated by a gentle breeze coming from the sea. The water flowing from the numerous fountains and the chirping of cicadas created a beautiful music, which soon became a delicious lullaby. Thoughts concerning philosophy, myths and cats mixed, leaving the young Nation in a state of satisfying torpor that was unfortunately disturbed by sudden bawls.

The Greek saw an exasperated Sadiq appear, followed by a troubled servant who was desperately trying to keep Romano quiet; at first, Heracles watched the little boy with an unfazed gaze, then glanced toward Sadiq.

"What?"

"Got a surprise for you, brat."

"What should I do?"

"Damn! Clean and feed him! Spain won't pay the ransom if the  _merchandise_  is ruined. Will you shut up, you little brat!"

The little Italian continued squirming and cursing, giving the servant a hard time.

" I-I'm deeply sorry, my Lord!!" Sadiq grunted, his servant looked paler and was nearly trembling for fear.

"A servant can take care of him."

"No, I think a blood relative will do a better job."

"I don't know what are you talking about."

The Turk didn't care to answer.

" Bring here that devil!!"

"Yes, my Lord."

Then, snickering, he wished the Greek good luck before leaving.

After heavily cursing Sadiq, Heracles observed the kid more closely. A lot of time had passed since he had seen his sister's son.

 

* * *

 

Heracles was helping Romano dress; the child's old, and modest dress was replaced by an elegant tunic, so that Turkey could show his Spanish rival how rich he was that even his prisoners could wear such luxurious dresses. In the meantime the younger kid was calming down, his companion seemed less intimidating than his kidnapper, but he had to make sure he wasn't another creepy guy, so with a voice a bit hoarse from shouting so much he spoke.

"Who are you, dammit?"

"Greece."

"Why are you here?"

"I have to."

The kid wondered about how he could question a guy who didn't show any interest in speaking, but even though that boy was a little strange, Romano understood that the other was like him, so he started chatting with him (more like Romano spoke and the other gave some hints he was still listening). The little Italian talked about himself and Spain, who was an idiot, and who fought against the perverted France to stop him from seizing Romano, but still complained a lot about the Italian kid's behavior _._ _Ingrate bastard._

"You know, I've got a little brother; he's a bit of a crybaby…"

The older Nation couldn't help chuckling after thinking about of how much the younger kid had sniveled just a while ago, but Romano didn't seem to be offended. In fact, that showed that the other guy was really listening, so Romano continued his query.

"Do you have a family?"

"No."

He didn't count his so-called brothers as a part of his family.

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

He still missed his mother.

"Ah…mine too…"

Should he say that he knew that pretty well? Romano didn't even know they were both related, it seemed. Only God knew why Roma chose not to say anything to his grandchildren, or perhaps it was his brothers' doing. Probably they thought he was the most loved by their father among them, and they resented the fact they were just bastards. In actuality, he wasn't that great of a father, the great  _Imperium Romanum_.

"You know, if you…uhm… if you're alone, you can… go with me… I'm sure that idiot Antonio, I mean Spain, will welcome you."

"I don't thin-"

"He isn't going anywhere, fucking brat."

Romano jumped, clearly not expecting the Turk would be listening to their conversation, and immediately hid behind his new friend, who, on the other hand, didn't seem affected by his sudden arrival.

"You kidnapped him too, bastard!" the little kid dared to ask to his kidnapper ,knowing his new friend would protect him.

"I took him with me when nobody cared about him."

"That's a poetic way to call an invasion, don't you think so, old man?"

 

* * *

 

The day didn't start very well. Pissed that he had to wait for the Spaniard (who asked him to be more patient, because he needed to collect all the money) and wanting to dispose of the little devil as soon as possible, Sadiq angrily asked Romano if Spain really intended to pay for his freedom, because days passed and he was still nowhere to be seen. If Antonio wasn't going to pay the ransom, then the little brat had to be sold. The Turk had no interest in keeping an annoying, worthless troublemaker with him. At first, the bratty kid reacted by shouting and swearing at his kidnapper. Then he suddenly started sobbing loudly, leaving the Turk speechless, not accustomed to interaction with someone who was faster to change his moods than the moon. The older brat was nowhere to be seen and, knowing that  _the Master_  had appointed the little Nation's care to the  _young Master_ especially, no slave or servant dared to approach the weeping kid. Sadiq could only wait for Romano to calm down, still disappointed because between all that bawling he didn't obtain any kind of answer, so he had no idea if waiting for the Spaniard was still a good choice. In the end, the little Italian fell asleep, and the Turk found that he could look at him closely. Light tan skin, brown hair all messed up, face still flushed because he fell asleep while crying, and a single tear still wetting his chubby cheek. He looked like his brat when he was younger, even though he had never seen Heracles crying: hate, and apathy, yes, but his green eyes never showed him desperation. The Turk was going to brush off that tear, when he sensed a presence.

"I wasn't going to do anything bad."

Not that he needed to excuse himself.

"Anyone knows you're a pervert,  _old man_ _."_

"I've never touched you,  _brat_ _."_

"Only because I would have chopped your hands."

 

* * *

 

"Arethusa was a beautiful nymph, you do know what a nymph is, right?"

Romano had pleaded him to tell him a story before going to sleep. Heracles was at loss. Even though his mother loved him, she hadn't been the type to sit and tell him a good night story because she was always so busy. Exposing to him Plato's Theory of Forms, maybe wasn't a good choice, so he settled for a story from his sister's land. He remembered she liked it very much.

"Yes, grandpa told me he met them when he was young!" Heracles could imagine his mother after hearing that kind of statement; she would have cursed that idiot of his ex- husband who really loved to make up stories based on Greek sources, and showing them as  _original Latin tales_.

"Uhm, yes. One day, it was really a hot day, and she decided to freshen up in a pond, not knowing the river god lived in there. While Arethusa was swimming, Alpheius kept watching her, slowly falling in love with that beautiful creature. But, at one point, the nymph became aware of the presence that was spying her and ran away, chased by the god, who tried to stop her, shouting his love for her. But Arethusa was one of Artemis' companions, and she couldn't love him back. She asked her goddess to help her, so Artemis muted her nymph in a river and in order to help her flee, she broke the ground so Arethusa could travel under the earth and reach Ortygia safely."

"And Alpheius? Was he left alone?"

"Alpheius was desperate, because, even though he was a god, he couldn't reach her. But Zeus, Father of all the Gods, was moved, and transformed Alpheius into a river, which flows through the sea and mingles his waters with Arethusa's."

The kid had his happy ending and was clearly satisfied because of that. Nevertheless he had still a question, so yawning (because the story helped him relax) he asked: "Why did Arethusa not like Alpheius? Was he ugly?"

"No, he was beautiful."

"Then why?"

Right, why? She didn't want him or, being one of Artemis' followers, she couldn't love him back? Which one of them was the truth? Perhaps they were both true. Greece was reflecting upon it, when he noticed the kid had fallen asleep in the meantime, surrounded by his cats. The Greek covered the kid with a blanket and motioned to leave the chamber.

"Perhaps she didn't hate him."

 

* * *

 

Until a couple of day ago, the Turk loved his bath time. The brat would have served him, and he would have teased the boy, enjoying the other's discomfort. But since the day he brought Romano in his house, Greece was taking care of the kid. Anyone would have thought Heracles was still the same, yet Sadiq noticed how the other kindly- and with much more care than ever- rinsed the kid, careful not to let the lotion burn his eyes. The Italian was precious  _merchandise_ , any damage would have meant a lower ransom; but now Turkey wasn't so sure about it. He should have sold him to some sultan and watched the lousy brat disappearing somewhere in the east. None of his beloved cats stopped him from serving his owner.

Alone in his swimming bath, because his brat was too busy to take care of his merchandise, he was lost in his thoughts. The more he thought about it, the more he realized they looked alike, yet were so different at the same time. The little one cried and shouted; while the older one was calm and collected. Would Heracles have grown up like the Italian kid without him? Would he have cried? It was strange to be obsessed with it now, thinking about a hypothetical life without the other, after all the time that they spent together.

The servants even told him they saw the Greek smile; actually, just tiny smiles, barely visible, but they were enough to piss off an already furious Turk. Wasn't it a pet's duty to show only to his master his emotions? But he never cried, never smiled. Heracles didn't show him anything. Even though he had Greece locked in his palace, the Turk felt like the other was more distant from him day after day; nothing seemed able to grasp him. He feared that one day the other would be too far to be reached.

 

* * *

 

"Damn you, Spaniard! Why didn't you come earlier?"

Antonio was going to answer that he had done his best to come as soon as possible, but the Turk didn't waste any time asking if he brought the money for the ransom.

"Romano! How's Romano?"

"He is good. Give me the money!"

"I won't give you anything 'till I see with my own eyes that he's safe and sound."

The Turk was going to snap (really, all these fuckers were fucking pissing him off), when a slave arrived bringing Romano. The kid was a little hesitant. Nobody had told him that his caretaker had come to set him free. As he saw him, Romano froze. Lately he had started thinking that the older Nation would take advantage of Romano's absence to obtain his dear Veneziano from Austria. But now Spain was there. That meant he cared for him, didn't it?

"Happy no? Give me the money, take this devil, and disappear from my sight."

Spain made a sign to his servant who handed over the ransom. in the meantime he approached the little Italian.

"Romano, how are…”

"Dammit! Why did you come only now!"

"But Romano...!"

Turkey watched the little brat cursing, punching, and kicking Spain, but when the older man, after waiting for the kid to calm down, took the Italian in his arms, Romano started crying and clung to his caretaker's neck, nearly suffocating him. Sadiq felt a pang in his heart, as the other two left. He didn't understand why, but he kind of envied his Spanish enemy.

 

* * *

 

He found the Greek petting one of his numerous cats. Sadiq scooted over to him to see if indeed the other was a little bit depressed about his little friend's departure.

"Did you think I was crying?"

Heracles gazed at him, his stare as firm as usual. Actually, the Turk was a little disappointed, so he decided to tease the younger Nation, who continued playing with his cats. "Your brother comes and, instead of asking for your freedom, he takes away your little nephew from you."

"I didn't know a geezer like you liked this kind of cheap tragedy so much."

"Are you telling me you don't care that your family left you again?"

"Like I told that child, after my mother passed away, I don't belong to any family. I'm alone, remember, you're the one who said it."

Sadiq sighed.

"Geez, this damned brat. You don't make sense."

Heracles looked at him, then resumed his play.

"First you want to make me one of your puppets, now you complain about it. It's you who doesn't know what he wants, old man. What do you want from me?"

"I want proof you're still alive."

Seeing as the other wasn't paying him any attention, Sadiq left the room. Now alone, Heracles could finally reflect about everything that happened those previous days. That kid… he made Greece remember what was like to have a family,  _his_ family. With those green eyes (his mother was very proud of them, she was green eyed, just like him, and his sister, and now it seemed her son too had been gifted with that special green that made him think of the olives Greeks were so proud of), his timid smile, his tiny hands, and his chubby cheeks. Thanks to them, for the first time, he hadn't been obsessed with the thought of Turkey. But now he was still alone. Someone in the outside world cared for the child, while he, Greece, was left alone. Nobody was going to rescue him, to take him away.

Then he thought about Sadiq's behavior- the one who kidnapped him, who forced him to live like his special personal servant, his obsession, and his strange request.

"Want proof  _I'm still alive_ … you might regret it, old man."

 

_'Arethusa, O Arethusa!' What wretched feelings were mine, then?_

Ovid,  _Metamorphoses_ , V, vv. 626-27.


End file.
